Betrayal
Copyright© 2011 by michael-wolfam
Chapter 31
Sheriff Warner spooled up the department's search and rescue helicopter as soon as he saw the white, four-wheel drive pull up to the helipad. The man getting out of the truck didn't look like Jamal, but he didn't care. They were all the same, maniacal, blood-thirsty robots.
The airport was busy for a Monday morning. A corporate jet screamed down the runway in front of the idling helicopter. The airport had expanded when the rehab center opened, and it wasn't surprising to see private jets, carrying important people with addiction problems, coming and going.
The guy getting out of the Chevy was a stocky Latino with crew cut, black hair. He carried a rolled up map and a fat, aluminum rifle case. Without a word, Rodrigo stowed the case in the back, within arm's reach, then climbed aboard the helicopter and put on his headset. He unrolled the map and pointed to a spot near the road where O'Donnell was last seen. Tom nodded, checked that the engine was at operating temperature, and then advanced the collective lever. The helicopter rose, turned north, and headed for the old Drunken Engineer Mine.
Sheriff Warner hoped this wouldn't take long. He had an important package coming in from Denver and he wanted to get back home before the weather went sour. The gray clouds forming over the mountains looked threatening. The latest weather reports indicated a large front would be moving through early in the afternoon, bringing the first snow of the season.
Though they could talk through their headsets, neither broke the silence as the helicopter streaked through the air at 120 mph. When they reached the area indicated on the map, Tom slowed and hovered. Rodrigo reached behind him and opened the aluminum case. He brought out a bolt action, hunting rifle with a powerful scope mounted to the top. He put the scope to his right eye and scanned the mountainous terrain below.
Rodrigo quickly spotted two sets of tracks that the SRT-8 had carved into the gravel. One set was irregular. There were gaps in the trail where it looked as if the wheels hadn't touched the ground for long stretches. The other track was smooth and connected.
Rodrigo had seen the wrecked Jeep a few hours ago. They had raided the salvage yard and found the missing SRT-8 and the white Porsche after killing the Driscol girl and burning her house down. Seeing the tracks, he was amazed the Jeep hadn't rolled all the way down the steep, gravelly slope.
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